Breathless (14 page)

His father chuckled. “There for a while I wasn't convinced there was a floor in his room.”

“I had to keep it a mess. When mom finished cleaning the outer area, she was too tired to do under my bed where I kept a secret stash of girlie magazines.” Matthew leaned toward Brenda. “Long before my Christian days.”

“I would hope so,” Brenda said. “I'd hate to imagine those magazines were still there.”

“So what do you think of Lydia?” Matthew sipped from his glass of iced tea. Their opinion meant more to him than he realized.

“She's nice, intelligent, and pretty.” Mr. Winters offered.

“I agree. The best part is it's obvious how much you care for her.” Brenda grabbed hold of her brother's hand from across the table. “I hope you don't blow it.”

“Me, too.” He gave Brenda a squeeze as Lydia returned, closely followed by Sarah who giggled. Sonny entered a few seconds later with a piece of fried chicken he'd apparently retrieved from the refrigerator.

“I can't seem to fill that boy up,” Brenda said.

Matthew watched as Lydia and Sarah finished clearing the table, both talking and laughing as if close friends.

“I believe Sarah's coming around,” Matthew whispered when the preteen returned to the kitchen. “What happened?”

“Apparently, she's a big fan of theatre and we discussed maybe driving to Atlanta to catch a show,” Lydia said. “That's if it's okay with her mother.”

“You can take her anytime.” A huge smile came over Brenda. “After the wedding.”

“Brenda!” Matthew cast his sister a glare.

“That's also when I learn all the bad stuff about Matthew, isn't it?” Lydia threw him a wink that caused pleasure to flood into his chest.

They spent the rest of the evening laughing and talking about their families. Brenda even asked her about Justin. Matthew could tell Lydia appreciated it. It neared eleven when they headed back to Lincolnville. The temperature had dropped considerably so he insisted she wear his jacket over her own. Once her arms encircled him, his body heat would rise.

“I had a wonderful evening. Your family's terrific.” Lydia led him up the steps, his hand on her back. He waited with her while she unlocked the door and turned on the light inside.

“They liked you too.” Matthew lifted her chin, staring into her eyes. His desire to dance in them grew. Their lips touched—not just a whisper of a kiss. They melded. He had to remind his heart to start beating. He had never cared for anyone with every ounce of his spirit. Earlier, as he held her on the patio, he realized he'd fallen in love. The awareness practically knocked him over.

He walked down from the porch and stood beside his bike. Lights glowed from within the house. Even when he tried to force it, the smile wouldn't leave. He looked at the clear night sky. “As you said Sis, and with God's blessings, I hope I don't blow it.” Lydia had him feeling positively giddy. It wouldn't surprise him at all if he actually started to giggle out loud. For the first time in his life he was in love, and he planned to savor it. He wondered if the neighbors would notice if he jumped in the air.

As he slid the helmet over his head, he heard the scream.

 

 

 

 

 

15

 

Matthew broke through the front door on his third try. The piercing scream shook him to the core. As he ran throughout the house, he called out her name. He found Lydia slunk down against the wall outside the upstairs bedroom, trembling.

“Lydia.” He lowered to one knee beside her.

She sat motionless, ghostly white, staring straight ahead. A dark color caught his attention. He walked into the bedroom. The bed and walls were covered with what appeared to be red paint. Stuffing from a mattress accented the room. A purple silk nightgown lay in shreds. The words YOU ARE MINE scrawled in red above the bed. He had enough experience to recognize the color came from blood. Matthew punched in the number from memory.

“Riley. I'm at Lydia's. Get over here. Now!” Anger crawled inside. He didn't wait for a response before closing his cell.

He paused, a reflection from the overhead light catching his attention. At the foot of the bed lay a small badge pendant with raised initials that read APD. He recognized it as being worn by members of the Atlanta Police Department.

Lydia's whimper pulled him back to the hallway. She held her knees against her chest, rocking back and forth, her eyes wide with fear. He knelt to raise her from the ground but she slapped at him as he lifted her. Her fists thrashed as she screamed, trying to free herself from his grip.

“It's okay. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you.” He struggled to pull her to him as her arms flailed. Her fists pounded his chin and chest. Finally she stopped, falling against him, sobbing.

Picking her up, he carried her to the couch on the floor below. She clung tightly to him, crying into his neck. He pulled her tighter. Whoever did this, invaded the very place she should have been able to find rest and comfort.

“You're safe. He's not here anymore.” Matthew tugged a nearby afghan from the back of the sofa and placed it over her. “I've got you. It's okay.” Sirens finally announced the arrival of the sheriff. “Riley's here.”

She froze in place, there in his arms, her body quivering. It killed him forcing her arms away from his neck. When he rose, she grabbed a pillow, clinging as if it was a life vest and she floated in the middle of a desolate ocean.

Riley entered first, followed by two other officers.

“Upstairs.” Matthew nodded toward the staircase. Riley stopped short when he saw Lydia. He took a quick glance at Matthew before ascending to the second floor. Riley's look of concern made it hard for Matthew to believe he was the person responsible. However, the pendant did move him to the top of the suspect list, but Matthew knew Riley and knew he would never do this.

Matthew returned to the sofa and wrapped his arm around Lydia. He held her tight, hoping the trembling would subside. Sounds of bewilderment drifted from the bedroom upstairs. Within seconds, footsteps descended.

“Lydia. Are you okay?” Riley knelt beside the couch, pushing her hair to the side.

Her grip tightened on Matthew's arm at Riley's touch. Her body went from lightly trembling to outright shaking.

“It's all right. You're safe now.” Mathew kept his tone quiet while holding her. As much as he wanted to rant about who did this, Matthew knew he had to remain calm for Lydia's sake.

Riley brushed a hand over his mouth, his jaw locked into place and his lips pierced tight. “Forensic people should be arriving soon. Until then, we need to get her out of here.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Sheryl, sorry to wake you.”

Matthew listened as Riley told Sheryl what happened.

Riley again knelt beside Lydia. “Sheryl's coming over. She's taking you to her house to stay for a while.” He looked at Matthew. “I'm posting a man outside Sheryl's as an added precaution. You'll have to stay and let us know what happened. She's not in any shape to talk at the moment.”

If Riley was the person responsible, he should receive an Academy Award for his performance. He showed nothing but distress for Lydia. There had to be another explanation for that pendant being upstairs. Matthew repressed his anger, instead focusing on the frightened woman in his arms.

Matthew's tone came out low and lethal as he said, “You best get the guy who's doing this, because God help him if I discover who he is first.”

 

****

 

Matthew leaned against a squad car as he waited for the forensic unit from Catoosa County in Ringgold, Georgia to finish. Sheryl had left with Lydia a couple of hours ago. She was still trembling as Sheryl drove her away.

His anger seethed as he recalled Lydia's expression. It started as a wonderful day. A day with him realizing he was in love. He never expected it to end this way. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to hit something, or someone.

“We're about done here.” Riley watched as the technicians left the scene. “Lydia will have to go through to let us know if anything's missing.”

“Did you come up with any evidence of who did this?” Matthew had yet to unclench his fists.

“I can't discuss an ongoing case.”

“I asked if you came up with any indication of who did this.” Matthew repeated his question slowly with more force.

Riley ran his fingers atop the stubble on his chin. “I can tell you this much: there appears to be no forced entry; at least that we could see with the front door torn apart. But I think that was from you, not the intruder .Besides, there are too many snoopy neighbors to break in through the front.” He scanned the crowd gathered outside the police crime tape. “Whoever did this must have a key. We won't know if anything's stolen until Lydia checks things out.”

“And?”

“I'm not overly confident what we discovered will amount to much.” Riley looked at the house, away from the people staring and whispering. “This guy seems to know what he's doing.”

“How about that pendant on the bedroom floor?” Matthew leaned toward Riley. His voice quieted as he spewed venom from behind closed teeth. “Did your forensic team find it or had it disappeared by the time they got here?”

“Hey, calm yourself.” Riley held up his hands, speaking quietly so the crowd couldn't hear. “It was there. But I'm telling you, it was planted. I haven't been in that room since Justin was sick.”

Matthew stared at his friend before slowly releasing his jacket. “I'm sorry. I can't get the image of her sitting on that floor, staring wide-eyed in fear. You didn't have her fists punching at you as she neared hysterics.”

“Get control of yourself. The last thing Lydia needs is for you to lose your temper and go around beating on people.” Riley adjusted his clothes back into place.

Matthew scratched his thumb against his forehead. “It's how I've handled things in the past.” Matthew shoved his fingers through his hair, settling his hands on his hips. He then noticed astonished expressions on the people standing about.

“It wouldn't be decent for a Christian man to strike a sheriff. Especially if that Christian happened to also be a preacher.” Riley glanced in the direction of the crowd. “I guess God's still working with you in that area.”

“I suppose.” Matthew muttered, before walking to his bike. He craved solace. There was only one place he would find peace. “I'll be at the church.”

 

****

 

Matthew walked into the chapel, turning on the light over the stage. It cascaded over the pulpit. His pulpit. The place where he stood, indicating he was a righteous man. Righteous didn't come near to how he'd describe himself at that moment. He had lost his temper and came close to hitting someone. Losing control brought an ache to his gut.

He'd been on edge for days, working to get his courage up to tell Lydia about his past. Sleep hadn't been forthcoming. There would be no way he could tell her now. He knew he would find no solace in rest again tonight.

A humbling feeling crawled over him, a man, who prided himself on being able to solve problems for others. He recalled how in Nashville he'd worked with former abusers, showing them how to turn to God instead of their fists to deal with any issues that arose. The hypocrisy hardly escaped him.

He stared at the cross hanging in the front. With the lights on over the stage, it appeared to have a halo. Tears fell as he walked forward, crumbling to his knees.

“Please God, forgive me,” he pleaded. “Please forgive me for losing my temper tonight. And please forgive me for those times I've lost it in the past, expecting others to tolerate it.” He openly sobbed in the empty sanctuary. “Please God, help me to keep control of my emotions in the future and to realize there are external things I can't control. But I can control the internal feelings. And please help me to help Lydia by giving her strength and comfort now, not brute force. Please Lord; let her feel your loving arms holding her. And Lord, please help me to find the right words and time to tell her the secret I've kept hidden. At that time, help her to forgive me.”

The thought of losing Lydia, whether to a killer or his own actions ate at him. And he knew losing his temper in front of a crowd had been the price he paid. He raised himself onto a seat and stared up at that wonderful cross.

Lydia's fear still burned him to his core. Worry sunk deep inside as he recalled grabbing Riley. He pondered over what he would have done if he had caught Lydia's terrorist in the house. How far would he have gone? Would he have forgotten his faith to feel his hands around the man's throat?

 

****

 

Lydia recalled coming up the stairs to see her bedroom destroyed. A loud scream emanated from her throat. Someone grabbed at her. It took seconds of fighting them off before she realized it was Matthew. Thank you God for the safety of his strong arms.

She wasn't sure how she got to Sheryl's. She was unsure when her shoes had been removed. Now she curled under a blanket. Shrouded in a fog, Lydia finally became aware of her surroundings in her friend's guest bedroom.

Blackness enveloped her while she listened to sounds of the dark. Light from the hallway cast a shadow over a figure off to her right. Sheryl lay curled on a settee under the window.

The stalker had been in her house, in her bedroom. He had destroyed everything. Lydia ran over all the people she knew, but no person came to mind who hated her so much they would cut and slash at her with such madness. What would have happened if he'd been there when she entered? And if Matthew had come in for coffee? She gripped the blanket into her fists, hoping to release the damp fingers of terror that choked her. Beads of sweat covered her forehead. She prayed for comfort and prayed they discovered who was doing this. The last thing she wanted was to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder.

Everyone had thoughts of death. Even she had, especially after Justin's illness. But almost coming face to face with the prospect caused a tremor in her body. The realization crept in that it wasn't about scaring her anymore.

He wanted to kill her.